


Tripping For Champs

by dara3008



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 thing, Fluff, M/M, Tiny bit of Angst, kind of a prompt i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dara3008/pseuds/dara3008
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From suddenlyatpeace' tumblr page:</p>
<p>'We need those cheesy “five times ___ happened” fics in the parksborn fandom like can you imagine?<br/>Five time Harry tripped and Peter caught him, and the one time he caught Peter.<br/>Why aren’t we doing this???'</p>
<p>So, there you go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tripping For Champs

1

They were five years old and this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Harry Osborn was the embodiment of sophisticated grace. He was born to be.

 

He didn't trip. Never.

 

And he didn't. Not really. Some assholes - yes he was five and cussed, got a problem with that? - decided to push him down a staircase.

 

He landed on something soft. Something soft that let out a pained 'oof'

 

An incredibly tiny boy was lying under him, looking up at him with wide dark eyes. 'Are you okay?' He asked in an equally tiny voice.

 

'You ask me if I'm okay?' Harry frowned in confusion. 'I squashed you.' He felt the need to point that out, before he struggled up - elegantly, ok? - and offered the boy a hand.

 

'Thanks.' The boy flushed a pretty pink color when Harry proceeded to brush him off on all sides. 'Well, you were the one that tripped down the stairs.'

 

'I didn't trip!' The word's came our harsh and defensive. The boy winced and his eyes widened to their doubled size again. Harry smiled sheepishly and patted his head in apology - he wasn't good at this, don't judge him. 'Thanks for standing here, I guess,…'

 

'Peter. Parker.' The boy - Peter - mumbled, a bright smile blooming on his face again. 'And no problem.'

 

'I'm Harry Osborn.'

 

2

He was nine years old when he ran away from home. Well, let's say he had a fight with his dad and fled in a huff. It was dark, raining and cold and he only wanted one place, the warmth of the Parker's household.

 

So Harry did something, he promised himself he would never do. He rode the fucking bus - yes, his cussing worsened but only in his mind.

 

When he finally arrived, he was wet, cold and angry and managed to trip UP the stairs. Up. No kidding.

 

'Harry.' Bony arms reached around him and steadied his shoulders, Harry's face colliding with a hard chest. Better than stony stairs, he supposed. 'Harry, what are you doing here? You're completely wet.'

 

'Th-thanks for st-stating th-the ob-obvious, P-pete.' He stuttered, his teeth clattering violently as he reached out his own arms to wind around his best friend. He felt warm again.

 

Peter, meanwhile stood frozen, not knowing what to do. Harry has never hugged him before.

 

3

'You're tiny, Peter.'

 

'Shut up, Har, I'm a year younger than you.' The twelve year old blushed, half heartedly slapping the back of his hand against Harry's chest.

 

'Nope. You're just tiny, anyway.' The Osborn heir grinned. Because his friend was just so squishable, almost a head smaller than him. 'In fact, I bet you are… Woah!' Having been too preoccupied with watching his friend, he hadn't noticed the rock in his path and promptly tripped over it. This time really.

 

Before his face could meet its truly unpleasant fate with the concrete below, he felt a thin, but surprisingly strong arm wrap around his waist, pulling him up again.

 

Silence followed until: 'Not a word.'

 

4

Harry was 17, lost, frustrated with life and high as fuck. He remembered going out with some nut jobs of his uni, remembered some bimbo brunette hanging off his arm and the white powder. The strong white powder.

 

And here he was, in some alley, alone and in the dark.

 

As he tripped over his own feed, only for a second he remembered something else. Someone else. He remembered a tuft of auburn hair. A gentle smile. And incredible warmth.

 

His vision went black. When he woke up, it was morning and he was lying face down in an alley in fuck knows where.

 

He fucked up. When did he fuck up so bad?

 

5

Harry was back in New York for a week when some fuckards decided to end Oscorp by killing its only heir. His father wasn't even dead yet and they already wanted him dead.

 

He thought it was the end. They pushed him. In front of a truck. How fucking unimaginative was that? 

 

He was Harry fucking Osborn. He, at least, deserved an interesting assassination.

 

He saw the truck coming at him. Closed his eyes. And then suddenly felt a whole new sensation overpowering his body. He was flying. What!? He was flying!

 

His eyes snapped open and all he saw was New York's streets passing under him as he was soaring threw the air. 

 

A flash of red and blue caught his eye and he looked up. Spiderman. Spiderman was holding him like a damsel in distress. Fuck.

 

Before he could struggle and protest loudly - yes, he was that proud, god damn it! -he suddenly felt something, he hadn't felt in years. Warmth. Parker warmth.

 

Oh no, oh fuck no! He knew, he fucking knew. 'Peter...' His voice wasn't more than a whisper. And Spiderman? Spiderman let him go with a squeak.

 

Well, he caught him again but was promptly faced with an ear-full of insults, threaths and finally: 'We see each other for 3 days in a row in the 5 days I am back and whenever I asked what was new you never thought about telling me that you dress in spandex to save the city, for fuck'a sake, Peter!'

 

+1

Harry was awakened late at night by a strange noise. He nearly screamed when he suddenly saw the figure standing by his bed. Then he nearly screamed in rage when he noticed who it was. 'Peter, god damn it, do you want to give me a heart attack?!' He quickly stumbled - still elegantly, ok? - out of bed and towards his best friend. Just then, did he notice the deep gash on his forehead and the split lip. 'Pete?' 

 

He quickly reached out when Peter swayed forward, tripping over the carpet, catching him against his chest. 'Hey, Har.'

 

'God, you idiot. When did you even get so tall?' Harry sighed as he pulled him closer, holding him tight. 'Are you alright?'

 

''m fine.' He could hear the grin in Peter's voice. 'I'm incredibly fine, Har.'

 

Harry frowned in confusion. 'Dude, are you high or something?' 

 

'Nope.' Peter popped the p and leaned back, grinning like a maniac. 'This is the first time you caught me, Har.' He teased. Before Harry could answer anything - 'Fuck off' probably - his friend's exoression turned serious suddenly. 'Will you always catch me, Harry?' 

 

'Pete, what...'

 

'Because I will.' He smiled warmly. 'I'll always catch you.'

 

Feeling like his head was about to explode in a blushing mess, Harry struggled. 'Peter, for God's sake what are you...'

 

The rest of his words were silenced in the probably best way possible.

 

Peter's lips against his own.

 

So yeah, he supposed, he would catch Peter any time. And he would never let him go.

 


End file.
